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in the West End. He settled down on the settee and read the newspaper.

Eliminating those that didn’t come up to her standard, Margot was left with two properties that she wanted to see. She went into the sitting room to show Bill. He was asleep, so she cleared the unwanted literature from the bed, put the two she wanted to view into her handbag, and pulled down the bedclothes.

‘Come on, sleepy head,’ she said, returning to the sitting room and shaking Bill by the shoulder. ‘Time to go to bed.’

Bill pushed himself up and, squinting through sleepy eyes, shuffled into the bedroom and fell onto the bed. ‘G’night love.’

Margot took off his slippers, pulled the bedclothes up, and tucked him in. Then she switched off the light and slid into bed beside her already snoring husband.

Margot flew into Bill’s arms. ‘I’ve found it. I’ve found our new home and it’s perfect,’ she said, showing Bill a photograph of a spacious sitting room, one double bedroom and one single. ‘I love it, Bill. I want it. The kitchen is so modern. It’s got a big sink, hot water on tap, and a mangle in one of the cupboards. Oh, and there’s a bathroom and toilet and guess what? Go on,’ she said after waiting only a second. ‘Guess what it’s got that I’ve always wanted.’

‘I don’t know,’ Bill said. The happiness radiating from his wife overwhelmed him. It always did. ‘I give in.’

‘A front door! We’ve got what we’ve always wanted,’ Margot said, as if it was the only apartment in London with a front door. ‘Please say you’ll come and see it tomorrow,’ she said, jumping up and down on the spot.

‘Tomorrow?’

‘Yes… Pleeeeeeease.’

The flat was all Margot said it was, and more. It did indeed have its own front door. Made of solid wood with a brass door knocker and handle, it opened onto a cobbled side street. Number 3 Oxford Mews was between the offices of a film company and a theatrical agency. At the end of the Mews there was a wrought iron fire escape belonging to a late night gambling club. The letting agent had told Margot that the club’s clients kept a low profile and never bothered the residents of the Mews. There was a door beneath the fire escape, which was the entrance to the club’s kitchen, and a door next to that with a small window above. There had been a red light in the window the first time Margot visited the Mews. Today, she was relieved to see, there was no light and the curtains were drawn.

‘It will be quiet at night,’ Margot said, opening the front door leading to the apartment she so desperately wanted. ‘The offices close at half past five and whoever lives at the end of the Mews is far enough away that we won’t hear them, or anyone else, come to that.’

Bill nodded. ‘Good location,’ he said, giving Margot’s shoulder a squeeze.

Margot led Bill up the stairs to a small landing. The door was on the left. She put the key in the lock and turned to Bill. Her eyes sparkled with excitement. ‘Well, this is it! I hope you like it,’ she said, and she threw open the door.

The square entrance hall was bright with clean straight lines and four doors. The door directly ahead of them led to the sitting room and kitchen. Margot opened it. ‘Look Bill, isn’t it lovely? Nice big settee and armchair, and the dining table and chairs look perfect here, next to the kitchen.’ Margot sighed. ‘It’s smart, isn’t it?’

‘It looks like a doctor’s waiting room,’ Bill said.

Margot pretended she hadn’t heard him. ‘The kitchen’s through here. You’ll love it, I know you will. It’s so modern. I’ll be able to bake you a cake and things, like a proper wife.’

Bill laughed, ‘That’ll make a pleasant change.’ Margot punched him playfully on the arm.

She ran her hand along the edge of the worktops. ‘Cream and cherry are the latest colours. Oh, Bill, look at this cabinet. It isn’t only for keeping food in.’ She pulled the handle in the middle. ‘Look, it turns into a work surface.’

‘Where’s the bedroom?’

‘This way, sir.’ Margot led Bill back to the hall. ‘After you,’ she said, opening the door and following him into the double bedroom. The room had three matching mirrors: one on the dressing table, one on the wall opposite, and a huge oval one on a wooden stand. Margot looked at herself in all three, turning to the left, and then the right, before jumping onto the bed. ‘Come and try it, Bill,’ she said, patting the mattress. ‘It’s ever so comfortable.’

Bill laughed and lay down beside her.

‘Close your eyes and relax for a minute.’

Bill closed his eyes and Margot rolled over and kissed him. ‘You do like the apartment, don’t you?’ she purred, walking her fingers up his chest to his chin.

‘Yes,’ he sighed, ‘I like it.’

Margot squealed and jumped up. ‘I knew it, I knew it, I knew it! I knew you’d love it!’

‘I love you, Margot,’ Bill said, ‘and if you want to live here, I want to live here. I don’t care where I live as long as I’m with you.’

‘But you do like it, don’t you, Bill? Please say you do.’

‘I like it. I love it.’

Margot squealed again. ‘Then what are we waiting for? Let’s go and tell the letting agent, and give him the deposit.’

The agent was delighted and asked when they wanted to move in.

‘Next Sunday,’ Margot said, grabbing hold of Bill’s hand.

The man raised his eyebrows at Bill. ‘Next Sunday it is then,’ he said. ‘If you’d like to pay the deposit, you can sign the tenancy agreement.’

Margot skipped out of the letting agency, chatting and laughing. Nothing could be done

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